He sighs. “In case you have forgotten, my top priority isyou. I can’t haveyouchasing after potentially dangerous stalkers.”
“What in the—” Lucy’s voice raises to new heights as she comes to a breathy stop in front of me and Gabriel. “What happened? Why was I forced to run?”
“I told you to stay put,” I bark in concerned frustration, but then I bring my voice down. It’s better she’s here with me and the guys. “The stalker showed up.”
Her dropped jaw and breathless “what?” remind me that I’ve never told her sister about this, much less her. “He’s been sniping pictures of me and sending them to my mother since the first date with you, or, Lorelei, I should say. He showed up when we were at Books and Beans, too.” I briefly recall the shadowed figure who passed outside our window as the rain began to pour.
Lucy runs her fingers through frizzed waves. “That’s something we should talk about on our way back to Juniper Grove. I’d like for my twin to be safe when she’s with you. Is your other PPO okay going to search alone? Should we help find him?”
“He’s on his way back. Stalker got away again,” Gabriel says and curses in French.
Guilt pricks at the edges of my thought, but I shove it down. “I wanted to protect Lucy. Make sure nothing happened to her because of me,” I clarify to Gabriel before I turn to Lucy. “And I swear on my title that I will never let anyone so much as touch a flyaway hair on your sister’s head.”
“Literal swoon.” Lucy makes the motion of fainting and laughs. “At least I know my sister is in good hands. You run fast, future king-in-law.”
“I understand, Your Highness. And we all admire your protective nature. But we are here to protect you.” Gabriel plucks grass from my hair. “Are you injured?”
“No,” I sigh. “But let’s wait for Anders. I want to finish this evening. I have things to discuss with Lucy.”
Though I know it will be hard to focus after this. I make a mental note to call my father on the way home and discuss this situationwith him. Until then, I need to learn how to win the right twin to my heart.
And probably take my PPOs out to a nice dinner on the way home.
Lucy tugs on my shirt, pulling me close. She whispers, “Can you set me up with him?” I follow her gaze to Gabriel, who is stalking away towards Anders. “I kind of like them grumpy.”
Chapter Nine
Lorelei
Even Ted Bundy couldn’t hold my attention tonight.
I find myself pacing around the room, eyes glued to my phone as my sister’s location continuously moves closer to the house. She’s still an hour away, and it’s already midnight.
Between checking her location and trying to reorient myself into the murderous world of Bundy, I also have a few searches pulled up on my phone.
What does it mean when a man touches you and it makes you burn?(Don’t search that, friends.)
Does it mean something if you can’t stop thinking about his eyes?(Gag.)
Prince Finley Andersson.(Why is he so unbearably handsome?)
I don’t like the answers.
They all point to the idea that I have feelings for my sister’s man, which is simply NOT okay.
But that’s just what the internet says, and we all know the internet lies. It doesn’thaveto mean anything. It can simply be a different reaction to being touched.
I’m not touched often because it gives me the ick, and though the reaction to Finley’s touch wasn’t icky, I’m not sure I’d categorize it as something pleasant.
Who wants to feel electrocuted when they touch someone, even with contact as simple as a brushing of fingers or lips pressed to knuckles?
And for the record, I only searched for Finley because he’s currently out with Lucy. I figured I’d use the time to see if there is anything I need to look out for to help protect her. I already know he’s a bit of a player, apparently, but I think Lucy can handle that at this point. But other than that fact, I can’t see any red flags. He is a humanitarian, wicked smart, and the people of his country seem to adore him even though he has an international reputation.
Again, that’s what the internet says. I can't take it too seriously.
I close out all the open screens on my phone and collapse onto the couch. The moment my bum lands on the cushion, Frizzle and Frannie jump onto my lap and curl up against each other. Frannie must be missing Lucy, whom she usually naps with at night.
“Hey, girls,” I coo while I busy both my hands running through their short fur coats. As I’m petting them, a weird feeling settles over me.
